The Dallas daily herald. [volume] (Dallas, Tex.) 1873-1887, 1887-05-05
CHARLES WESLEY.
How the Venerable Methodist Poet
Passed the Last Days OF His Life.

little white horse, gray with age. 1t
appears to have been brought every
morning from the fo%undry-an ar
rangement which its master did not
like, but which ii vas impossible to
avoid. lie was somewhat stouter than
his brother, but not c%orpulent. Henry
Moore says that he wore winter cloth
ing ever in summer. When he mount
ed his horse, 'if II subject struck him,
he proceeded to expand it and put it in
order. This he used to write on card
in shorthand with his pencil Not
~unfrequently he used to come TO the
house in the city road, and having left
the pony in the garden in front. he
would enter, crying out: 'Pen and ink!
pen and ink!' When these were given
him he proceeded TO write out his
hymn. This done, he looked around on
those present, saluted them with much
kindness, inquired after their health,
and then gave out some short hymn.
What impression he produced or
strangers may be understood from Will
liam Wilberforce's account of his first
interview with the venerable poet, at the
house of Hannah Moore. He says: II
went, in 1882, to see her, and when L
came into the room Charles Wesley
rose from the table, around which Il
numerous company sat at tea, and,
coming forward to me, gave me solemn
ly his blessing. l was scarcely ever
more affected. Such was the effect OF
his and appearance that it al
together overset me, and | burst into
tears, unable to restrain myself"
When City Road chapel was built,
Charles Wesley preached there OIL in
some other Methodist chapel every
Sunday morning and afternoon, except
when he was supplying the congrega-
ton in Bristol, or was laid aside from
his growing iniimities. His ministry
was solemn and awakening, yet full of
tenderness for the mourners. When in
good health and under the special in
fluencc of the spirit, as he often was,
he was fluent and powerful. He used
short pointed sentences. full of Scrip
ture sentiment and phraseology. 'ln
prayer he was copious and mighty, es-
DtCllll1 pn ~ iifNiAN OtNNo'Ni't
when he seemed to enter into the holt
est of all by the blood of Jesus" If
his thoughts did not flow freely, he was
very deliberate in the pulpit, making
long pauses rs though waiting for the
spirits influence. ''In such cases he
usually preached with his eyes closed;
he fumbled with his hands about his
breast, leaned with his elbows upon the
Bible, and his whole body was in mo-
ton. He was often so feeble as to be
under the necessity of calling upon his
congregation to sing IN the course OF
his sermon that he might partially re-
cover himself and be able to finish his
discourse. Till within n few months
of his death he continued his ministry
in the London chapels.
Every lover of Charles Wesley's
poetry has been touched by the dying
effort OF his muse. For some time he
had been lying quietly on his bed. At
last he called for Mrs. Wesley. and
asked her to write the following lines
at his dictation:
In age and feebleness extreme,
Who shall Il sinful worm redeem,
Jesus, my only hope Thou art,
Strength Of my falling flesh aud heart;
O could | catch q smile from Thee,
And drop into eternity!
On Saturday, the 29th of March, his
happy spirit fed. Through the whole
week the restlessness of death had been
on him. He slept much without re-
freshment. On Tuesday and Wednes-
dav he was not entirely sensible. His
end was what he particularly wished it
might be-peace. mo friend" he said
to his wife, twas permitted to approach
him." Some one observed that the
valley of the shadow OF death was hard
to be passed. Not with Christ" was
his answer. He spoke to all his chill
dren with affection and hope of their
salvation. Samuel Bradburn sat up
with him the night but n be-
fore his death. His mind was calm as
q summer evening. On the Saturday
all the family stood round his bed. The
last words which they could catch from
his lips were: Lord, my heart, nv
God!' With his hand laying in his
daughters. the old saint passed home
so gently that the watchers did not
know when the spirit fled. 1t was
ascertained that John Wesley was in
Shropshire and at the moment of his
brothers death he and his congrega-
ton were singing Charles Wesley's
hymn:
One army OF the living God,
To His command We bow;
Part of His host have crossed the flood,
"